John Edwards (Swoon)

John Edwards for President? What's this guy done? Whatev'.

Last November I did an interview with John Edwards (and Steve Forbes) when he visited NKU. Pat Crowley was on vacation or something and they tossed me in. Why? I don't know. But I ran with it. I blogged about it here (there's pictures) and my story from that interview is here.

Enjoy.

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Eating My Socks

No matter the shoe I wear, for the past four days, my right shoe has been eating my right sock. I take 20 steps and it's completely bunched up in my shoe. I'm doing nothing different.

Why is this happening to me?

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Izzy's In Da House

I think I'm done with the blogging for the year. I've reached critical mass as it pertains to job worries, pressures, assignments, etc. It's time to submerge myself into a mental cacoon and be reborn a vibrant wealth producing income generating imago on January 2. Unfortuately, my cacoon will not be undisturbed until Sunday at the earliest. That gives me on day to rehab my mental self.

But before I go, I must admit I've been remiss in acknowledgeing the birth of the Izzy. Welcome.

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Happy Christmas

Just about a perfect Christmas!

Santa brought Daughter #1 a telescope and a flypen. We went down to the river and looking into the windows of downtown condos on Christmas Day. As for the flypen - I'm thinking she won't lose it for a few months.

Santa brought Daughter #2 seven of the Twelve Dancing Princesses - along with the Twelve Dancing Princesses computer game and Twelve Dancing Princesses DVD. You know you've had enough nog when you start wondering which of the Twelve Dancing Princesses is most likely to....

Santa brought The Divine Mrs. M. a pair of earrings. I either scored a good hit or she scored an Oscar winning performance. She liked them. Nothing stirs up my feelings of inadequacy more than standing in front of a jewelry counter konwing what I buy COULD RUIN CHRISTMAS! Not that I've ever ruined Christmas for her, but its always been a nagging fear. As a child, I regularly RUINED CHRISTMAS!

Santa brought me both of The Killers CDs. From what I can tell - they look and sound pretty gay, but hey, what's got two thumbs and loves to dance to synth rock? This guy! Also, they're the best British band to come out of Las Vegas in years. Next, I got the bestest gift of all. 411 minutes of pure silliness - with pure unedited violence! God I'm going to need this.

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Re-Gifting

We all do it, but how 'bout the Blessed Virgin Mary?

You thing she looking into that box of Myrhh and said. "Myrhh, what am I going to do with this? Joe, let's send it to you mom. She still thinks I'm a tramp."

"She doesn't think you're a tramp, Mare. I told you she's never believed any case of immaculate conception."

"Yeah, well...."

"Yeah, well....the baby needs fed."

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Two Stories

Here's two stories:
One on the local community college taking care of the kids of students
One on some profs taking their kids overseas to learn.
Not much to add from me. I'm tired.

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Enough Dead Jews: What the West Taught the Middle East

Here's the one thing the "west" (i.e. liberal democratic society) has taught the middle east...and other assorted thugs. We taught them that you gotta at least pretend to do crazy ass things. That doesn't mean that they use reason, just the cloak of reasoning makes thuggish behavior easier to sell.

That's why Castro and saddam got "re-elected" with 99% of the vote and 99% of the turnout. And if you review the US news items reporting these "elections" they were done so without much grain of salt. If you like literature, check out the first (maybe second) scene, Act 1 of Henry V (A fine play that parrellels GWB), Prince Hal's (GWB to some) lawyer goes through a long and meandering and ultimately funny exposition on how it's totally acceptable for England to invade France.

And so we come to the Tehran Holocaust investigation conference.

The Iranian government is not doing it to be mean. They are doing it to provide a reason for an action. The action? The Nuking Israel.

The only reason for the WW2 victors to support the establishment of an Israeli state was the Holocaust, if the Holocast didn't happen, their would be no need for Israel. If the Holocaust didn't happen, then the establishment of Israel is a farce. It would have no right or reason to exist.

And don't write the Conference off as a bunch of nuts. Tehran is a modern city filled with academics. Smart people can want crazy things. To quote marge simpson 'people do all kinds of crazy things - like eat at Hardees."

Our elites have pretty much bought into Israel being illigitimate. A former US presdient has a book called 'Palestine: Peace not apartheid'. No mention of Israel there? There already is a Palastinian state: Jordan. On the other side of the spectrum, a former secretary of state, James Baker (remember when people said he was in the pocket of the Saudis? But now he's ok), helped author that silly Iraqi Study Group Report. Here's Mark Steyn on the ISG's call for a multi-national support group that's suppose to help us out of Iraq:

Oh, but lest you think there are no minimum admission criteria to James Baker's "Support Group," relax, it's a very restricted membership: Arabs, Persians, Chinese commies, French obstructionists, Russian assassination squads. But no Jews. Even though Israel is the only country to be required to make specific concessions -- return the Golan Heights, etc. Indeed, insofar as this document has any novelty value, it's in the Frankenstein-meets-the-Wolfman sense of a boffo convergence of hit franchises: a Vietnam bug-out, but with the Jews as the designated fall guys. Wow. That's what Hollywood would call "high concept."

So even our own elites are working to delegitimize Israel's existance?

So the arab world has a "rational" reason to deny Israel's existence, the "west" is being tee'd up to believe the same thing - or at least that Israel is an irritation.

I'm thinking we're looking at a 21st Century with more another - far greater - Holocaust. Are we going to have to number them?

And when Israel is gone, will the Arab world become happy and rational and peaceful? Or will is want the return of Al-Andalus next?

They have their reasons. They have their justifications. They have the technology.

Boom!

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The Olive Garden Squirts

H/T Drudge : Over 250 sick after eating at Indiana Olive Garden

Not to be flippant, but if you choose to eat at an Olive Garden in Indianapolis - or any city for that matter - you deserve the rumbles...the heaves...and the squirts...and the clenches where you have to do that penguin walk to the potty. The place sucks.

Right now, somewhere in some part of any decent sized city there's some Neopolitan guy standing in an empty restaurant that he sunk his life savings into thinking "WTF is 'Hospitaliano'?

Go help him out and eat there this weekend. His place won't be situated anywhere near the long string of "TGI McFunsters" that every town has.

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Conan and Aunt Winnie

One of my NRO favorite's John J. Miller has piece in the Journal today about Robert E. Howard, creator of Conan the Barbarian. This, of course, reminded me of a crippled aunt from Pennsylvania.

She was a great aunt actually. The sister-in-law of my paternal grandfather. Her name was Winnie. I first met her in Canada. We were spreading her husband's ashes on a hillside next to the family's cabin - we were spreading them from a Hills Brother's Coffee can.

She was confined to a wheelchair. A hottie in her youth - I saw the pics - at about 30 her body started curling up from some severe arthritis. Years went by. She raised a family. A couple years before I met her - she was in her 70s then - she got stuck - actually stuck - the house. She couldn't get her wheelchair moving. While sitting there trying to pass the time until help came, she managed to pick up one of her grown son's old Conan the Barbarian book - she was addicted.

"They're just great," she said. "Lotsa killin' and fighting."

How do you not like a woman like that? When not reading her Conan books, she guilted me into playing scrabble.

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Attn: Kentucky Bloggers

Political Notes: Long-time political fixture and long-time campbell County Coroner Doc. Fred Stine died on Sunday. Article here. To relate it statewide, he is the father-in-law of Sen Katie Stine.

He was a nice man who always faked that he knew me. Last time I saw him, he was with one of his daughters and two sons and assorted grandkids eating Chinese.

He proved his worth during the Beverly Hills Supper Club Fire.

Nice man. RIP.

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Kids Reshuffled/SUVs

I did my first piece with a co-byline last night. It appeared today. The regular professional reporter couldn't make a meeting so she asked me to go. It's here. She wrote up the basics and I plugged in some quotes I got from the meeting and confirmed a few things.

It's about a school district having to reassign kids after having closed an old building and built a new one a few miles south. Admittedly I went into this with some bias. the last thing I really wanted to do on a Monday night was go listen to a bunch of suburbanites whine about having to drive their eight passenger SUVs few extra miles to drop off their 2 kids, but after listening to them state their positions and seeing how upset they were, I softened.

When I got home The Divine Mrs. M. was watching that new Elaine from Seinfeld show. It was about - SUVs! I hate to be on the side of the environuts but they just seem to me in the words of my old Chinese boss - "widicurous". They're just silly.

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My Fraternity: Delta Sigma Pi

I did this article on NKU's Pi Kappa Alpha, the "Pikes", where they helped out their president's mom who has cancer. It got me thinking about my own fraternity: Delta Sigma Pi

I didn't get alot of academic encouragement other than "get good grades or else" or self-esteem building growing up. I knew I had a little bit of brains but I was a bit lazy which looked to some like stupidity and I always had that nagging doubt - "Maybe I am bit dumb? I do get lost easily." Recently, I was watching a movie where a girl made a mix tape for a guy (Do they still do that? Maybe a mix playlist?) and I thought of a time a girl in high school gave me a mix tape. I had no idea why. I listened to it a bit in the car on the way home that day, but it was full of bad 80s pop. When she asked about it a few days later I let her know the songs were crap. This was senior year. So maybe I was stupid - she was hot.

I must have gotten into Ball State under their Clerical Error Program because my high school grades were pretty bad - 1 or 2 As total, a few Bs, mostly Cs with a few Ds. My rank was in the bottom of the class of 600 or so. The number 382 sticks in my head for some reason.

At college, second semester freshman year I pledged Delta Sigma Pi. This is not a social fraternity but limited to business majors - and they accept chicks. No frat house - they had an office in the building by the lounge area. They did have keggers at member's houses and apartments. There was a fair amount of drinking (The Divine Mrs. M. still remembers me cracking an oak door with my head), but at that time at this point, they were the smarter business students and they just assumed I was smart to which made me feel smart. I started to work and study and get good grades.

They were also tapped into the faculty pretty well so if I ever had any problems - late papers, non-attendance - were forgiven. Again, the profs just assumed I was smart as well since I was with the Delta Sigs. The assistant dean at the time was also very encourageing to me in particular. He gave me a key to the business building and a key to the elevator - usually only faculty had these, but he just one day gave them to me. A few times I had the dean get me into a class without the right prerequisites. I'm sure this was because of being a member of my frat.

I'm not sure I would have stuck with school if I hadn't joined. Delta Sigma Pi gave me a lot of confidence which probably helped me land the Divine Mrs. M. later that summer. Once she and I were together, I was done with other women. She was on a full ride academic scholarship so she had to keep her grades up. That sucked me into working harder - if I wanted to be with her I had to be studying.

But to this day - after earning my two degrees and the CFA designation and writing a book (remember that?) and building a small investment business, and accidently becoming a freelance writer for a major newspaper and some magazines, I still think of myself as a "dumb guy". That insecurity is built into my core.

I'm Rainman smart on some things - inconsequential things - but I'm oblivious to alot. I live in fear that the limited success I have had is a mirage. When I sit around the table, my natural instinct is to just assume everyone else there is many magnatudes smarter than myself.

I try to be successful, to garner some kind of achievement. I think there's a knowledge of success that I should comprehend. But between me and it, there seems to be a gauze over my understanding. Everything is fuzzy like those shots of Liz Taylor in those White Diamond commercials. It's my own private Allegory of the Cave. Maybe it will always be there. I'd gladly bit into the forbidden fruit if I could just find that there tree of knowledge.

I think my own drive (it's more like an amble) for success of whatever kind is just an attempt to prove those first 18 years wrong...to prove them wrong - but maybe that's in vain. To prove those 18 years wrong is to deny my own existence in a way. Maybe they aren't wrong, but just are. It's part of my and what I am. Proving them wrong would be like proving gravity wrong.

Does any of this make sense? A smart guy would know.

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Sex Offenders

Sex Offenders

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Sex Offenders

Sex Offenders

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Brickhouse

I didn't know what a Nicole Ritchie was until stuck on a treadmill with nothing but a woman's/celelbrity stalker magazine.

I thought it funny that her father is known for singing "Brickhouse" and she's...not. More of an outhouse.

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Courage

What the Cowardly Lion lusted for it and Dan Rather punctuated with. Courage.

I'm not sure if I have any. I'm thinking I don't. I've never been tested. I've been in fights. But those were mostly fuel by liquor and boredom. I've been thinking of soldiers, airmen, and sailors. What they must go through? How do they muster that courage? Especially Marines. I've been dealing alot with a Marine father in law. How do these guys do what they do?

I worry about not paying a bill. So I decided to test myself.

Depending on traffic, about 25% of the time, I have to go through what many consider a bad neighborhood. I drive the west to east length of Liberty Street - where downtown meets bad 1960s public policy. I once had the cops tackle a guy on the hood of my Saturn. Nobody paid any attention to me. I drove on.

Anyway, to test my bravery, I decided I'd roll down the window and sing aloud to something very white. Country grates on my nerves, so this was mostly alternative - adult aternative to be specific. And some Beatles. Pretty white, I thought. I've been slowly working my way traffic light by traffic light. The furthest I've made it is three blocks. That's only because they were all green. Stopped at a light is worst. If you're not surrounded on both sides by cars, then there's a pedestrian in no hurry to go anywhere peering into your car.

Anyway, I've failed so far. Last Thursday I drove down that stretch again. I went classic this time. Golden Earring's Radar Love. No matter what the race or creed or sexual orientation - who doesn't like 1970s Dutch rockers?

So I belting it out. It's not a sond for stop and go traffic, but I'm make my way. I lasted up until "One more rader lover gone.." and was about to launch into my verbal rendition of that ripping part "When I'm feeling lonely....". I'm even doing the guitar action. Then I feel the stares. They are burning into me. Curiousity trumps Courage. I know I shouldn't but I look over to my driver's side. There - in a tricked out Buick La Sabre with spinners spinning are two urban youths complete with a set of grills and oversized coats laughing their asses off at me.

I couldn't take it. I broke down laughing, then made quick right as they went forward. I drove around the block; windows rolled up. Quiet. The radio wasn't even on.

I hope Uncle Sam never needs me. I can't even take wounded pride.

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"Quit Touching Stuff!"/The Doctor Waiting Game

Anytime I have to wait I get curious. This drives The Divine Mrs. M. nuts.

While picking out caskets for her mothers funeral in the upstairs "Gallery o' Caskets and Urns" at the funeral home we were left alone for a while. I started poking around the urns. I'd never touched one. (As a teenager, I'd help spread the ashes of a never met paternal uncle on a Canadian hillside, but he was kept in a Hills Brothers coffee can - much to my mother's chagrin - not in an urn. I'd already touched a Hills Brothers coffee can. It felt just like a Folgers can.)

Anyway, I picked some urns up to see how much they weighed, how were they finished inside, what they were made of. They ranged from the classic urn shape to little boxes with a sleek stainless steel design (The DeLorean of urns?). Anyway, it was an emotional time and The Divine politely requested that I "Quit touching stuff" and sit my ass down. I think there was something in there about the attention span of a four-year old.

The place where I probably do touch stuff too much is the doctors office...but they always make me wait so damn long. I play with the little thingy that they look into your ears with. I try to figure out the use for any other instruments they have. If I find a stethescope, I've hit jackpot. One time, I saw something that caught my attention in the back of a floor cabinet. It was hard to reach and I had half my body in the cabinet trying to reach it. I can't remember what it was but I do remember the look on the doctor's face when he walked in.

"Sorry. I got bored," was all I could explain.

But I've turned this around on the doctors. For some reason, the doctors I use always bring me back into a little room, have a nurse take my weight, temp, and b.p. and then leave me to wait. The last time - a 9 a.m. appointment - the actual doctor didn't come in until 9:50.

So I taught her a lesson. I've done this before. I allow them to let me sit in that room for 20 minutes. Then I go to work.

Everything in the bottom shelves get nicely rearranged to the top. Everything in the right cabinet gets place carefully in the left. If there are cabinets on each side of the room - they get switched. The cotton balls, tongue depressors, alcohol swipes, bottles of iodine, needles are all neatly rearranged. When the MD goes for a needle, he'll have to open 3 doors. HA! There's no destruction. Nothing harmed. Just the same level of inconvience that I experienced in waiting redirected toward my medical practioner.

I think if we all did this that the doctors would start providing a little better service. And if nothing else, that's what they get for making me wait. Or they'd start locking the cabinets.

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